


Unexpected

by Dominatrix



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, It's getting hot in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:25:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominatrix/pseuds/Dominatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of them would have ever thought the night would end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

None of them would have ever thought the night would end like this.

Lizzie had looked forward to a calm, quiet evening with her beloved sister. Bing had been supposed to be out of Netherfield for the night, but when the lights of his car flashed on the road Jane was faster on her feet and at the window than Lizzie could say “2.5 WPF”. It turned out that Bing had not needed to stay so long and wanted to take Jane out. Jane – of course – in her role as the selfless martyr, offered Lizzie to come with them, but Lizzie recognized a third wheel when she saw it.

The love birds drove off with half-hearted tries to talk Lizzie into coming with them, but they looked seriously relieved when Lizzie insisted that there was nothing she wanted more than a nice cup of tea, a book that made her heart melt and a soft, warm bed.

Caroline surely wouldn’t have liked to miss the upcoming tension between Darcy and Lizzie. Now that the two pacifists Jane and Bing were out there was nothing to stop the verbal bloodbaths between them. Well, Caroline would have been really interested if it had been something new. But not even she with her great want for drama and sensations could keep up with this hostility for over two weeks. So she fled to “Carter’s”, a quite uncreative way to escape Netherfield.

Lizzie really hadn’t planned to get into any trouble. But when she came up the stairs from the kitchen, her cup of English Breakfast tea (yes, she was perfectly aware that it wasn’t time for breakfast. Was this the first sign that your life has gotten out of control?) in her hands, she had no idea where her room was. Like seriously no idea. It was a maze in here. All doors looked the same, sophisticated, white, and expensive. And as Lizzie had no intention to wait in the living room – she knew at least where that one was – until Bing would come home to ask him where she stayed.

She was used to humiliation due to her mother, but this would hurt her pride too much. So she did the only thing that made any sense to her: She opened one door after the other. On the first three or four she knocked because she knew that somewhere Darcy was lurking, planning evil robot stuff. But after some time Lizzie lost patience and ripped the door open to find an empty room behind it. Until at some point when she ripped the door open she didn’t find an empty room, but a highly irritated Darcy looking at her, barely eight feet away from her.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” His voice was as neutral and nerve-racking as always, his eyes cold like glaciers.

Maybe it was the pain that shot in her chest, the pain that made her realize she once again made herself a fool in front of him, him of all people, and that it would leave no good light at Jane. Maybe it was the fact that the house was empty except the both of them and Lizzie realized that there would probably be only this one chance. And maybe she was sick and tired of his eternal Darcyness, and she finally wanted to bring something up in him, no matter what. She put her tea cup down next to her on a ridiculously delicate white table that matched the door while she paced towards Darcy, fury in her breath and murder in her gaze.

“Elizabeth? Do you want to tell me anything?” There it was again, this risen eyebrow, as if he was making fun of her so silently that no one apart from him would understand. And she didn’t know why, but in this moment it made her furious. It made her so furious that she didn’t care that she was wearing an oversized shirt which her sisters and her had decorated together, hand prints all over, in pink, green and yellow, and all other colours you can imagine. The worst were Lydia’s hand prints in blood red on both her breasts as if a blood-splattered ghost would have grabbed them. Darcy’s gaze lingered a bit too much on them for Lizzie to stay calm.

“Oh, shut up” she groaned, and she didn’t care that this was the worst thing she could do when William Darcy was in a room with her, she pulled him down and crashed her lips on his.

He reacted the way she expected him to: Not at all. He just stood there, stiff as a poker, arms by his sides, seemingly not recognizing what Lizzie was doing right there. After a few seconds of bitter disappointment and doubt the rage boiled up in her again. She had his lower lip between her teeth for a moment before letting go and hissing against his mouth, her face still so close that they breathed the same air.

“Come on, you can do better.”

Maybe it was the fact that William Darcy didn’t like to be criticized, let alone by a girl who knew nothing about him. Maybe she just took him by surprise. And maybe, just maybe, he really wanted her. He wouldn’t know afterwards why exactly he had his hands under her shirt in the blink of an eye, why he was pushing it up to expose her thighs and hips and the curve of her waist. He just knew that it was this way, that kissing her was the most arousing thing he had done in a very long time and that his body sent clear signals about how this should go on.

Lizzie felt him pressing against her leg when he conquered her mouth with his lips before pushing her back against the door until her body slammed against it. She had opened his shirt with flying fingers – of course William Darcy still wore a business shirt eventough he hadn’t been working all day – and found the heated skin beneath. With growing impatience she tugged on his belt until it finally gave in to her, leaving her space enough to slide her hand into his pants, finding him, grabbing him with a firm movement, her fingers still hot from the tea cup.

Darcy let out a stifled moan into her mouth while he was trying to push her underwear down her body, pressing even harder against her, nailing her against the wall of his room until she had no chance to move away. Not that she wanted to. No, she finally had Darcy the way she wanted him to be: Free, loud and _hers._ He was all hers now, and they both knew that.

By the time her panties finally landed on the floor, Darcy had one of his hands on Lydia’s red handprint, stroking Lizzie’s chest while she wriggled him out of his pants. She still felt her fury underneath her skin, but it mixed up with a lust that was impossible to describe, and the mixture was deadly to both of them.

Darcy grabbed her wrists and held them over her head while he placed herself at her entrance and looked her in the eyes with these glacier eyes she despised so much. To her great surprise – and arousal – there was a blue fire burning in them now.

“Don’t you ever tell me to shut up again.” And with this he thrust into her, all the way inside, until their hips met and Lizzie was sure she would scratch his eyes out. In fact, she maybe would have if he wouldn’t hold her hands so firmly it almost hurt.

They showed no mercy to each other. Lizzie ignored the fact that there was some edge on the wall always pushing into the small of her back when Darcy moved, and they were moaning, cursing and screaming as if they could kill the other one with it. Because they would if they had the chance.

When Lizzie felt that she would soon reach her climax – she just couldn’t wait for it any longer – she ripped her wrists out of Darcy’s grip and flung her arms around his neck to pull him even closer. His heavy, hot breath was on her collar bone before she pulled his head back by his hair.

“I hate you” she hissed before swiping her tongue over his upper lip, initiating a passionate kiss Darcy only broke shortly to mutter “And I hate you too” before kissing her again.

The shiver of Darcy’s body, the way all of his muscles clenched at the same time, and especially the way he moaned her name when he came was enough to push her over the edge, too. She pulled him closer one last time, buried her face at his neck and threw her head back with a scream that was not as quiet as she would have liked.

Darcy stepped back, fixing his appearance by closing his trousers properly again and running his fingers through his stupid, messy hair. Just the thought that these fingers had caressed her breasts only seconds ago…

With as much dignity as possible, Lizzie picked her underwear up and looked him in the eye. But when she opened her mouth she couldn’t think of an appropriate thing to say. _Thanks? It was nice? I still hate you but you’re very hot?_ In the end she chose to say nothing and just turned on her heel, slamming the door shut behind her.

She only noticed that she had forgotten her tea in his room when she had finally found her own place. Well. She didn’t want tea now anyway.

A hot shower – or rather a cold one, as she was still aroused by the feeling of him inside her although it had vanished, but Lizzie Bennet never forgot anything – would have to do for now.


End file.
